


Sunlight On a Broken Column

by Dayadhvam



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-28
Updated: 2008-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:04:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2251770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dayadhvam/pseuds/Dayadhvam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is just another ordinary day, and all is well. Or: Itachi, before the massacre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunlight On a Broken Column

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helike/gifts).



> Written as a b-day gift, July 2008; edited Sept. 2014; prompts were Itachi & sun. Title is from T.S. Eliot's "[The Hollow Men](http://aduni.org/~heather/occs/honors/Poem.htm)":
>
>> Eyes I dare not meet in dreams  
> In death's dream kingdom  
> These do not appear:  
> There, the eyes are  
> Sunlight on a broken column  
> There, is a tree swinging  
> And voices are  
> In the wind's singing  
> More distant and more solemn  
> Than a fading star.

_(Depending on the wielder's skill, a kunai can easily be used to slice apples rather than throats._

_Juice is tastier than blood.)_

"So what does the note say?" Shisui hands Itachi a quarter of his apple.

The neat handwriting tells Uchiha Itachi to report to the Hokage's office later in the evening, for a meeting with someone from ANBU. That "someone" is vaguely described, but reading between the lines, Itachi would guess it to be Danzou. Or perhaps Oda, from the Ops division.

"For ANBU," Itachi says. "A meeting."

"Oh?" Someone leans over his shoulder, the third member of the team on their just-accomplished mission. Shizuka usually does not force conversations on him, which is the reason she is more tolerated than most. Itachi hardly wants to discuss how nice the weather is on any day of his life. It's all extraneous information. "They don't usually assign more missions by note."

"Probably not a mission," Shisui says, and passes another apple piece to her. "But since Itachi's a genius, they might drag him off to be a slave driver for the Root division so he can inspire them all. What do you think, Shizu-chan?—ow!"

"Remember to call me Shizuka," she informs him in too pleasant a manner, like a keen razor blade folded into soft bubble wrap, and tosses him a handkerchief. "Now wipe your face."

Shisui grumbles as he reaches up to trace the thin path of blood on his cheek. "Your kunai," he mutters, "is so _cruel_."

Itachi ignores them and folds up the paper, pressing down hard on the creases; wonders about drawing blood from paper cuts. It would be easy to transmit poison that way. And even better than that, a poison applied to surfaces so that, with the merest touch, it would be absorbed through the skin, just like that one they squirreled out of Suna some time ago; he'll have to stop by the hospital in the future and see how that could be applied and then countered—

He turns at the tap on his shoulder, the instinct to draw a weapon overcome by the instinct of his own need for self-control. Both are as natural to him as the red of his Sharingan.

"You want dango?" Shisui asks, gesturing in the direction of the door—more importantly, the direction to the nearest food stand.

Itachi considers the offer, nods shortly. "The usual, preferably."

His cousin shoves his hands into his pockets. "I think I still have some money left over from—"

"—the last time you pickpocketed your target, yes," Shizuka adds, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"The Uchiha do not pickpocket," Shisui says with an entirely straight face. "They simply appropriate for public use, as you should well know." He sounds too serious to truly be serious, and even Itachi is hard-pressed to maintain his normal demeanor.

"In that case, it'll all be on you," is her reply. "Agreed?"

"I agree," Itachi says bluntly, and returns Shisui's glance of mock betrayal with one of amusement. "Make sure the dango is bocchan dango."

"I like daifuku," Shizuka adds helpfully.

Shisui sighs and passes a hand over his brow. "As you wish, my lord, my lady—allow yourselves what you will at my expense. Just wait, one day I will rebel and commit suicide to be freed of your sponging."

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen," Itachi replies blandly and starts to wipe his blood-streaked blade. "The arrangement is too beneficial for me to risk losing you."

"Ha! So that's the only reason you keep me around." Shisui vanishes through the doorway before poking his head back in. "You would have ulterior motives, wouldn't you? Itachi-cha—"

His head disappears before Itachi's kunai hits the door jamb.

"Effective," Shizuka says approvingly. "Now if you will, hand me that washing rag—I'll rinse out the blood for you."

*

_(Poisons are double-edged entities. Antidotes, even more so. It all relies upon the people who make use of them.)_

Lunch is a sedate, quiet affair, broken only by the occasional clattering of dishes at the sink.

"I hope you won't be late next time," his mother says while wiping a plate. "Sasuke was disappointed that you couldn't make it, especially since you left for your mission before dinner yesterday."

"I'll be more punctual if I can," Itachi answers, and commences his attack on the pork. Arranged that way, it looks curiously like the symbol of Iwa. He buries the pork in a spoonful of rice and proceeds to defeat Iwa; his stomach growls appreciatively. Dango is good, but not as filling as a whole meal.

"Your father would like to see you sometime in the afternoon," Mikoto continues. "He's at the police station for work, so if you stop by there later..."

"Very well," he replies; and then, "Where did Sasuke go?"

"I think he grabbed some wire and went to the training grounds to practice with it." Mikoto lets water splash over the dishes as she turns around. "Using them to swing around trees and such. He insisted on going off to practice by himself—oh, Yuya-san! Good to see you."

Itachi looks up at his uncle (not really an uncle in the technical sense, but there are so many members of the Uchiha clan that he refers to them as uncles and aunts and cousins), and nods in acknowledgment.

Uchiha Yuya gives Mikoto a fleeting smile. "Mikoto-san, I apologize for the intrusion, but I hope you don't mind if I use some of your supplies."

"Of course not," Mikoto says, and pulls out a box of poisons and antidotes below the sink without batting an eyelash. Itachi knows that she used to be a jounin, with a specialty in poisons, and now he can see that flickering look of— _something_ —in her eyes. It is the spark that is inherent in all ninja, and even though Mikoto has not done missions for some years, pulled out of service by her husband and pulled back to her duty as a Uchiha wife (how it must chafe, sometimes), the spark does not disappear even though it may fade.

Itachi thinks of the inevitable, to be pulled back to his duty as Uchiha heir. The position seems to him singularly unappealing.

"—so, which one?" Mikoto is asking.

Yuya leans back and roars out the door, "Tsukiko! Which one?" There is a distant yell back, a reply.

Tsukiko—that explains why Yuya would need an antidote. She is some distant cousin of Itachi's, who can never be separated from her naginata—the blade of which she coats in poison, changing the poison every other week. "Spar?" Itachi asks.

"As you say," Yuya grunts. "Nicked me when I was being careless. We kept going until it really kicked in, though—there's no need for it to incapacitate me any time soon. Ah, it's that one, Mikoto-san."

"That poison?" She glances at the vial and then picks up another vial, the poison-antidote relationship evident to none but herself.

"Says the naginata brat, at least."

Itachi stands up and takes his plate to the sink. "I'm going now," he tells his mother. "Do you know which training ground Sasuke went to?"

"Little Sasuke's gone down near the pier," Yuya puts in. "I should know, I nearly hit him with my bo staff when he was going there."

"I would ask you to be more careful with my sons," Mikoto says pointedly.

Yuya shifts his weight and shakes his head. "No need, they take care of themselves well enough. Little Sasuke just underestimated how far my staff can reach. Taught him a good lesson to remember."

"I hope he'll remember that lesson," Mikoto mutters with a sigh as she begins bandaging up Yuya's arm. "He gets too caught up in things sometimes, just follows his own goals with all he can give, and—"

Itachi shuts the door behind him, cutting off his mother's voice. The direction to the pier is—

He turns left and walks, shielding his eyes against the bright afternoon sun.

*

_(Wire is very effective for strangling the enemy. Many a ninja has made quick work of a kill by wire._

_The tricky part is not to strangle oneself.)_

Sasuke is not even remotely swinging through trees. Instead, Itachi finds him lying on his stomach at the end of the pier, raising and lowering a tree branch. He's tied wire to the end of the branch and is frowning as he stares into the water.

Itachi steps up behind him, and for a moment can almost see his face superimposed on Sasuke's reflection in the water. Then Sasuke notices, and scrambles up quickly. "Brother!"

He pats down Sasuke's hair, which is almost always uncooperative and sticks out in the most ridiculous ways. "Sit down, Sasuke." He folds his legs and looks at the water. "I heard you were training?"

His brother's face colors a little. "I was, earlier," he mutters. "I thought that maybe I'd catch a fish for dinner and take it home..."

Itachi glances at Sasuke. He's still a child, he notes with amusement, all sulky face and embarrassed look. Sasuke must have expected Itachi to be disappointed in him (neglecting practice? the horror, truly), but instead Itachi gestures to the water. "What did you use for bait?"

Sasuke brightens. "I caught some crickets in the training grounds."

"... Crickets," Itachi repeats.

"The fish like them," Sasuke says. "That's all that matters."

True, Itachi concedes. "You shouldn't use the wire for fishing," he tells Sasuke dryly. "String is perfectly fine for fishing, and wire is what a ninja needs." There is also, of course, the risk of the wire deteriorating due to overexposure to water, or the fish being frightened away by the sun flashing on the wire, or—but Sasuke doesn't know this.

Sasuke squirms. "Yeah, but there was a really big fish—" he waves his free hand about, as if the fish is there to be shown "—and I really wanted it."

Unfortunately, not all desires can become reality. "Hmm," Itachi says. "How would you like it cooked, then?"

"I don't know," Sasuke replies. "It'll be tasty any—"

His branch jerks momentarily. "Wait, wait, I got one!" Sasuke shouts excitedly and pulls back the branch, nearly falling over. Something silver and gleaming flies into the air—splat on the pier—

"It's not a very large fish, Sasuke," Itachi observes from his spot, and tries to suppress a smile. "Are you sure it will make all four of us full?"

Sasuke scowls as he picks up the small wriggling fish and throws it back in. "Stop teasing me! I did see a bigger one!"

"I think I see one too, actually," Itachi says.

"Where?" Sasuke's eyes light up; he comes up to the end of the pier and peers down—

"Here," Itachi answers, and pushes Sasuke into the water to the sound of his surprised yelp. "Right there, see? A very large fish, I think we'll have a tasty dinner."

Water splashes—Sasuke sputters, small and wet and embarrassed. "I am not a fish!"

People may call Itachi a genius, but even he can't block the spray of water that spews from Sasuke's mouth.

"Brother, agh!" Sasuke flails wildly, sending waves every which way. "You're awful, get me out!" Itachi feels Sasuke grab ahold of his foot—

He could easily free himself, but he doesn't, and lets Sasuke pull him down into the lake. When he looks up, the sun is a flaming gold coin—then the water flows over him, and it's snuffed from his sight like a dying candle.

*

_(He will go blind, but there will be time; time to murder and create a hundred visions of red and black. In the end, it all depends upon the wielder._

_The Mangekyou Sharingan spins, and he does not dare stop to ask himself if it had been worth it.)_

**Author's Note:**

> The "time to murder and create" quip in the last section is riffing off T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." The fishing scene was inspired by helike's [sketch](https://helike.livejournal.com/318349.html#cutid2); the OC Shizuka is also hers.


End file.
